


Night of the Whistlepig

by AlynnaStrong



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Character Death In Dream, F/M, Groundhog Day, I would never, all a dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 09:31:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14871218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlynnaStrong/pseuds/AlynnaStrong
Summary: Jaime’s post-Harrenhal dream on the weirwood stump was highly metaphorical and possibly prophetic.  What if the fates had decided he was a bit dense (him? no!) and needed a more instructive approach?





	Night of the Whistlepig

**Author's Note:**

> Whistlepig is an old name for groundhog. You know, Whistlepig’s Night… Groundhog’s Day… you see where this is going.

The wench stood tall and proud, ridiculous dress and all. Locked in a cell at Harrenhal she managed to make the entire enterprise seem beneath her dignity.

“I owe you a debt,” Jaime said. He could barely stand to look her in the eye. His failure to convince Lord Bolton to release her hung between them. The greedy lickspittle probably wanted a piece of her ransom.

“You gave your word to Lady Catelyn. Keep it, and consider the debt paid.”

“I will return the Stark girls to their mother. I swear it.”

Brienne nodded her head once in acceptance. “Goodbye, Ser Jaime.”

Jaime couldn’t bring himself to reply. He ducked his head and allowed his escorts to lead him away.

For a Lannister, for someone who had always been able to accomplish miracles, his humbled state left him dazed. What was he now that could not fight? What use could he be to anyone? He hung his head, shamed by his helplessness. This is Jaime Lannister now, an aimless burden to be passed between protectors. Lord Bolton handed him over to his captain, Steelshanks, to be delivered to Lord Lannister at King’s Landing.

While he rode with Steelshanks and his men toward King’s Landing, Jaime thought more on Brienne’s fate. Having put some distance between them, he could see that he’d blown the issue out of proportion. Why should he feel guilty anyway? A churlish part of him said there was a direct line between her and the loss of his hand. Granted his own mouth had more to do with it, and he’d likely be crow food by now if he'd remained at the Stark camp. Still, he owed her nothing.

They made camp, and he slept.  
  


**1**

Jaime awoke to the smell of bacon cooking over a campfire. This was more like it. Nowhere near the glories of Cersei’s table – which he would never again take for granted – but much better than hardtack and water. He missed nothing about sitting across from a scowling mule-woman who wouldn’t even let him out of her sight to piss.

“Think it’ll rain, m’lord?” asked one of the soldiers.

“No, it’s a bit brisk, but those clouds look harmless.”

“Hope you’re right. Hate riding in the rain.”

Qyburn pierced some of Jaime’s positive attitude by telling him that Brienne’s ransom would not be paid. Now _this_ was possibly his fault. He’d lied about the sapphires to save her from rape at the hands of the Bloody Mummers. Now it seems he’d merely delayed it. Well, it was a shame, but she was tough. She’d learn to go away in her own mind; it wasn’t that hard. Eventually they’d settle on a price with her father. There was no reason to think they’d kill her; that would be folly.

They rode the full day towards King’s Landing. If they’d pushed the horses, they could have finished the trip by midnight, but Qyburn advised treating Jaime’s injury cautiously. Steelshanks agreed, probably because he wanted to meet Tywin Lannister during daylight hours, all the better to request a sizable reward.

Jaime lay down to sleep, and suddenly the world sped up. He saw a vision of Harrenhal and Brienne. They had put her in the bear pit! At first, he was slightly encouraged. A well-trained knight could defeat a bear. However, he saw they’d given her no armor, just the dress, uglier than she was. Still, the point was for the bear not to catch you, so being unencumbered was not entirely without its advantages. Then he noticed the wooden sword and felt all hope leave his heart. They were just toying with her. And most hurtful to see, she was still trying. He could only watch in despair as she side-stepped the bear's attacks and made a few of her own, to absolutely no effect.

Eventually, the bear didn’t fall for her feint and managed to pin her against the wall. Jaime tried to look away, but for some reason he could not seem to close his eyes. If anything, he was treated to a closer view than any of the actual spectators. He saw as the bear’s 5-inch long claws descended across her neck and chest. It had tagged her before, but his time it managed to open her throat. Blood pumped out in concert to her heartbeat, and in seconds she could not maintain her footing. She slid to the dirt with the sickening cheers of the crowd echoing all around. The bear swiped again at her belly. She had energy left for one scream as the bear’s sharp teeth dug into her viscera and it began to eat.

Jaime screamed as well. Some images flashed through his mind before he managed to shake himself fully awake. Just a dream, thank the gods. And thank them further for the delicious smell of bacon.  
  


**2**

“Think it’ll rain, m’lord?” asked one of the soldiers.

“No, it’s a bit brisk, but those clouds look harmless.”

“Hope you’re right. Hate riding in the rain.”

The sense of déjà vu was strong. Jaime felt like he’d had this same trivial conversation over yesterday’s breakfast. He supposed unlettered sell-swords couldn’t be expected to understand the importance of variety.

Qyburn summoned him over and began to treat and redress his wound. It didn’t seem to have healed much overnight.

“I dreamed of Brienne, the swordswench. She was a terror, but I do hope she’s not suffering overmuch after being denied ransom.”

“How did you know of that, my lord?” Qyburn asked.

“The ransom? You told me yesterday.”

“Yesterday I was in my cozy laboratory until we rode out. You are mistaken, my lord.”

Jaime looked to the east, and sure enough, he could not see King’s Landing in the distance yet. Had he dreamed yesterday’s ride? That hardly seemed possible.

Disconcerted, Jaime said, “Let’s get back on the road. I am eager to be reunited with my family.”

They broke camp and once again stopped for the evening a few hours short of King’s Landing. As soon as he closed his eyes, the visions began. Brienne. The bear. Claws. Teeth. Entrails. Then a pull-back, and it was as if he saw Harrenhal from above. Suddenly, whiteness overtook his vision and all was gone.  
  


**3**

Mmm. Bacon.

“Think it’ll rain, m’lord?” asked one of the soldiers.

“Yes,” Jaime tried, “you can feel it in the air.”

“Damnation. Hate riding in the rain.”

Jamie looked east; no King’s Landing. A dream once again, but was it more? He examined the tree stump on which he’d slept. Weirwood – that was certainly interesting.

“Qyburn, do you know anything of dreams that repeat?” he asked, as once again the ex-maester tended to his wound.

“It usually reflects an unsettled issue preying on one’s mind. May I ask…”

“I dreamed of the woman, of Brienne. You know, the -” he tried to think of adequate adjectives, but they escaped him.

“The lady of the Sapphire Isle. Yes. Pity about her ransom. I hope you made all the use of her you wanted before we left. I don’t imagine they’ll be much remaining by tonight.”

“What?” Jaime caught Qyburn’s arm. His stomach sank at the cold certainty in the ex-maester's voice. “They’d be fools to kill her.”

“These men have been at war a long time. Most will be dead by winter. She’ll be their entertainment tonight. Beyond that, I don’t think they care.”

Jaime stood abruptly and stalked over to Steelshanks. “We’re riding hard for King’s Landing. I want to arrive this evening.”

“Ser Jaime, perhaps you’ve forgotten, but you don’t give the orders around here.”

“Let’s put it this way, I’m riding hard for King’s Landing, and if you want to claim to be my escorts, you’d better keep up.”

Jaime mounted his horse too swiftly and fell off the other side, having forgotten that his missing right hand could not grab onto the reins to stabilize him.

“No, Lannister. We’re doing this at my pace,” said Steelshanks.

Jaime made the rest of the trip humiliatingly roped beside the sell-sword. That night, the visions returned. Brienne dying horribly, then Harrenhal, then even further back to see more of the Seven Kingdoms, then white.  
  


**4-7**

It took a few tries for Jaime to escape smoothly. Each time, he noticed, he and his companions held exactly the same conversations. If he varied his speech, the response would vary as well, but it would vary in the same way each time. Everything was the same. He was starting to recognize birdsong and becoming able to anticipate wolf howls from the forest.

Also each time, he was forced to witness the wench’s death. She always went out bravely, he had to give her that.  
  


**8**

Jaime arrived in King’s Landing well after sunset, riding like the Stranger was at his heels. Steelshanks and the others followed right behind. They insisted he take them to Lord Tywin so they could have their reward.

Displeased by both his son’s treatment and being disturbed at such an hour, Tywin treated them less than generously. They groused and complained to the point that Jaime gave them each a gold chain from his own collection to depart in peace.

He finally reunited with Cersei. She also reacted poorly to his missing hand and late arrival. Ever the dutiful sister, however, she eventually took him into her embrace.

Surely, he thought, he would sleep soundly tonight in the bed of his one true love. But no, the wench. Scream. Claws. Blood. Blue eyes that looked at nothing. Why was he dreaming of her now after reuniting with his other half? Why?  
  


**9 – 10**

Bacon. Lumpy ground. Noooo!

Jaime rode hard for King’s Landing, adding a surprise gallop at the end to arrive a few minutes before Steelshanks. He looked around for a hiding place where he wouldn’t be discovered.  
  


**11**

Jaime emerged from gardening shed, scraping the cow dung from his boots. That could have gone better. Next time… no, this time will be the last. He had it now.

He raced up to the raven’s tower and insisted to see the maester in charge.

“Send your fastest raven to Harrenhal. On the message write: Offer of ransom for Brienne of Tarth: 3000 gold, paid two days hence. She must not be harmed.”

He slept comfortably in Cersei’s embrace, confident his ordeal was over.

Locke wadded up the message; Brienne died in a mess of blood and viscera. Jaime flew well above the Kingdoms, and all turned to white.  
  


**12**

“Offer of ransom for Brienne of Tarth: 30,000 gold, paid two days hence. She must not be harmed.”  
  


**13**

300,000 gold.  
  


**14**

“Say I will pay any amount. Underline the word any.”  
  


**15**

Jaime calmly enjoyed his bacon breakfast.

“Think it’ll rain, m’lord?” asked Guyfore, a soldier from Maidenpool. Jaime had also learned he had a lovely wife, three children, and enjoyed pickled beets.

“No, but so what if it does? We’re not going anywhere today.”

“We’re not, m’lord?”

“No, I’m feeling ill. I believe I’ll take today off.”

“Have you talked to Steelshanks about that?”

“No, but send him over. Let’s have it out.”

Guyfore called to his captain, and Steelshanks came over to investigate the latest difficulty Ser Jaime planned to cause. His reward had better be worth this.

“Let Qyburn tend to that arm, Lannister, and then we’ll be on our way.”

“No, I’m relaxing today. I need time to think.”

“You can relax once we get to King’s Landing. Now up on your feet. We need to get some road behind us.”

“One day won’t make a difference. Trust me.” Jaime smiled a slightly mad grin. “When my father sees me, the first thing he’s going to ask is what happened to my hand. I’m going to tell him you chopped it off.”

“But that’s- that’s not,” Steelshanks sputtered.

“Or I could tell him you saved my life. My father will be furious at someone. I can promise you that.” He’d seen it about a dozen times, after all. “Someone will need to bear the blame. Help me decide who that will be.”

Steelshank’s brow furrowed as he weighed his options. “I suppose one day, since you’re doing poorly…”

“Thank you. That’s all I ask. You’ll be richly rewarded.”

Jaime closed his eyes and concentrated. Whatever this was concerned the wench, obviously. He thought back to the last time he saw Brienne. _She knows,_ he realized, _she knows I’m leaving her to die. She knows she’ll never see her home and family again. She’s willing to accept it, and even to call me Ser because… I promised to carry out her vow._

The vow; it all comes back to the vow. He gave his word, and he intended to keep it. He did! What more could he possibly do toward that goal by the end of the day? Was he to abduct Sansa Stark from the Maidenvault in the middle of the night and ride for the Riverlands?

He lay his head down to sleep. Brienne’s innocent eyes. Her neck rent open by 5-inch long claws. An agonized scream and a jet of blood. The Kingdoms. Whiteness, descending from the North. Was it snow?  
  


**16-27**

Getting into the Maidenvault was difficult, even for the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Cersei had informants all over the place, for several reasons. Making sure her handsome brother wasn’t sneaking in to visit young and beautiful maidens was one of them.  
  


**28**

“Get out or I’ll scream.”

Jaime fell to his knees. Riding for 12 hours, hiding from Steelshanks, sneaking past informants, and climbing the trellis to Sansa’s window with one hand had been utterly exhausting. “Please don’t. I’m trying to help.”

“I’m sure,” Sansa said, pulling up the coverlet of her bed to more completely cover her chest.

“Please, get dressed and come with me. I’ll take you to your mother.”

“Is she here?”

“No, we’d have to ride, but we can made a good start under cover of darkness.”

“Why would you help me? My father always said the Kingslayer had shit for honor.”

“Your father was prone to judge matters he knew little about,” Jaime snapped, knowing as soon as the words left his mouth they had been a mistake.

Grief twisted Sansa’s face for a moment, then she screamed.

Jaime put his head in his hand.  
  


**29**

“Why would you help me? My father always said the Kingslayer had shit for honor.”

Jaime paused carefully before trusting himself to reply. “Your mother trusted me. She made me swear an oath to bring you back to her. Here I am trying to do that. So please, get dressed.”

“No, I see what this is. Your father got word that I was to marry Ser Loras. You’re here to lock me away in some tower so that Joffrey can use me as his plaything. I won’t have it! I’ll jump first!” she yelled.

It had been enough. Jaime heard the sounds of guard’s footsteps running rapidly in their direction.  
  


**30**

“Why would you help me? My father always said-”

“Shit for honor, yes. I’m working on that.”

Sansa threw him an odd look for knowing her father’s private opinion.

“Our future queen, Margaery, has entrusted me with a secret mission to steal you away to Highgarden so that you may be wed to Ser Loras as soon as possible.”

Sansa gaped in amazement. “Margaery chose _you_ for this?”

“Of course, how would I know about it otherwise? I suppose she thought I’d have less trouble getting you out of the capital. Now, put on some warm clothes and a traveling cloak, and let’s go.”

Sansa did as she was bid, creeping behind Jaime as they snuck down corridors and stairwells. He had horses ready for them in the stables, and soon they were riding out of the city. In daytime, Sansa might catch on that they were riding north, towards Riverrun rather than south towards Highgarden, but so far so good.

She was a skilled rider, in truth, and they were making good time. Jaime realized that once the sun rose, they would be into the next day. The curse would be broken! He looked over to her and suddenly saw an image of the bear superimposed on her face. Then a spray of blood so startling he nearly fell from his horse. The wench’s blue eyes floated above the landscape for a moment before all went white.  
  


**31**

The sizzle of bacon woke Jaime from a restless sleep.

It wasn’t fair! He had been doing it! What more was there? Did he have to have Arya as well? No one had seen her in ages. If she’s hiding somewhere in King’s Landing he couldn’t… well, he could. If he talked to everyone in King’s Landing one by one, surely someone would had seen her. It would just take thousands and thousands of tries.

He didn’t have it in him. Watching the… events transpire time and again was starting to eat into his soul.

Jaime found himself filled with a hopelessness he hadn’t known since the night Locke cut off his hand. The pain had been at the edge of bearable, but the knowledge that he would evermore be a useless burden had been too much. He’d lain in the mud, waiting to die, until the wench taunted him into wanting to live again. She was dead now, too. There was nothing he could do to save her.

There was a knife with his breakfast. Dull, but it would do. Before giving himself time to think about it, he jabbed the knife into this throat and slashed to the side.  
  


**32**

Breakfast time. The sight of the knife next to his plate made Jaime feel a bit queasy. Brienne would have been ashamed of him.

Feeling a piece of the puzzle click into place, he realized, she wasn’t dead. Not yet. And they were closer to Harrenhal than they were to King’s Landing. Gods be good, why hadn’t it occurred to him before? He just needed to go back for her!

“We’re going back to Harrenhal. I left something there it turns out I can’t live without,” Jaime told Steelshanks.

“Sod off. Buy yourself a new one when we get to King’s Landing.”

Jaime grinned. This was a fight he knew how to win. “When my father sees me, the first thing he’s going to ask is what happened to my hand. I’m going to tell him you chopped it off.”

“But that’s- that’s not,” Steelshanks sputtered.

“Or I could tell him you saved my life.”

Steelshank’s brow furrowed as he considered his options. “All right. We go back, you get your thing, we leave. We’re on the road again right away, and no more lip out of you.”

“Agreed,” Jaime said.

They made their return to Harrenhal well before dusk. They’d need to change horses before riding off again, but Jaime was happy to call that Steelshank’s problem.

Jaime sauntered up to Locke. He’d be easier to negotiate with than Bolton. After all, Bolton had been walking a fine line, wanting to curry favor with Lord Lannister while maintaining his allegiance to House Stark. Locke was just a solider, used to taking orders.

“I’m here for Brienne of Tarth,” Jaime announced. “I can have her ransom delivered by tomorrow evening. How much were-”

“She’s not for sale, Lannister,” Locke said. His smile grew smug as he took in Jaime’s abject disbelief.

Jaime’s mind reeled. He’d never met a sell-sword who would turn down a lifetime’s worth of gold before. He thought that the ravens from his previous tries had been arriving too late, but perhaps money wasn’t what Locke most wanted. “What about a title? Lord Locke has a nice ring to it.”

Locke scoffed. “You lords and ladies. You still think that makes a bit of difference. Well this,” he grabbed Jaime’s arm and held his stump aloft, “makes me happier than all your gold and fancy titles ever could. Be a good little lord and go back to your daddy now. Real men, men with two good hands, have work to do here.”

Jaime saw that Locke’s men had him surrounded. He couldn’t fight as he was, and Steelshanks and his men were no match for those in Locke’s stronghold. Jaime backed down in defeat. Next time, he needed to find Brienne first.  
  


**33**

Jamie and his escorts arrived outside Harrenhal before dusk.

“Go get whatever you left, Lannister, and be quick about it.”

“I remember which room I need. It’s in the east tower. Now if you can distract any guards-”

“This doesn’t sound like some misplaced keepsake. What’s in that tower?”

“More like who, really,” Jaime said with an arrogant lilt in his voice.

“Not a chance. If you think we’re going to help you steal one of Locke’s other prisoners away, then you’ve gone mad. There’s only five of us, not counting you, with all respect. He’s got dozens.”

“With any luck he won’t even know we’re here.”

“Willing to bet your life on that? I’m not. Nor mine.”

“My father-”

“Tell your father I cut off your bloody hand, then. I don’t care. There’s no way,” Steelshanks said.

“Then let me-”

“Nah. Get back on your horse, Lannister. You’ve wasted too much of my time already.” Steelshanks had unstrapped his crossbow and brought it level.

The dream was so vivid that night, Jaime could practically smell the bear’s foul musk. He tried to control the vision, to make it skip past what he didn’t want to see, but he could not. There was no safe place to look as Brienne’s fair skin became stained with her blood, her powerful body was ripped open, and her kind eyes filled with pain. He saw the Kingdoms, and watched the ice descend from the far North. Was it saying that without her there would be endless winter?  
  


**34**

“Go get whatever you left, Lannister, and be quick about it.”

“Oh surely we can tarry long enough for a meal,” Jaime stalled. He intended to wait until they brought Brienne out and then hope inspiration struck.

“Unbelievable,” Steelshanks muttered, but he didn’t say no. Jaime knew by now that Steelshanks was a man who liked his mutton pie, an impossible meal to find on the road.

Jaime lounged around, trying to look inconspicuous. He was met with a spot of good luck when Brienne appeared before Steelshanks had finished his dinner. It was mixed with bad, however, because Locke himself led the way. They were walking through the courtyard, heading for some steps down to the underground tunnels.

Jaime stepped in their way. Brienne’s honest face pinched in pure confusion.

“Out of my way, Lannister, unless you want a piece of what she’s getting.”

Well, he’d been looking for inspiration. “Yes, that’s it exactly. I realized that as a knight I could not allow an innocent maiden to come to harm.”

“Oh come now!” Brienne exclaimed. She was blushing, probably from the maiden comment, but looked ready to rip his head off nonetheless.

“Do shut up!” Jaime demanded.

“You want to take her place?” Locke considered. He shook his head. “Nah, wouldn’t be a fair fight.”

“Oh please, like you care whether it’s fair. It will be entertaining. Come on, give me a sword. Let’s see how quickly I can learn to fight with my left hand.”

“I said no. Lord Bolton’s already sent word to you father that you’re on the way.”

“Then at least let me take her along. You can name your ransom. Doesn’t have to be money or jewels; get creative – cut off my other hand if you want.”

“Sorry, Lannister. If you’d said so yesterday I might have taken you up on that. Tonight, though, I have men to entertain.”

As Locke led Brienne away, she fixed Jaime with a deep scowl. ‘You’ll have to be less stupid if you’re going to fulfill our vow,’ it seemed to say.  
  


**35**

While Steelshanks went off to dinner, Jaime slipped down into the underground tunnels. He’d stolen Qyburn’s entire supply of milk of the poppy and mixed it into some sausage he grabbed from Steelshank's packs. He crept along until he saw the bear’s cage. No one guarded it, and there was no food inside. Perfect.

Jaime waved the sausage around until he had the bear’s attention. It sniffed the air and lumbered towards the edge of the cage. Jaime threw the meat inside. The bear pawed at it, and gave it a sniff, but did not eat.

“Come on, you stupid animal. I know you’re hungry,” Jaime muttered. He’d seen it tear into Brienne often enough.

After one more sniff, the bear lumbered away from the dosed meat.

“Dinner. Food. Eat. Yum,” Jaime begged.

By then, however, the bear’s keepers could be heard approaching down the hallway. The show was about to begin.  
  


**36**

Jaime timed their arrival to coincide with Brienne being put into the bear pit. He had an inchoate sense that he was getting closer to the solution. The visions were clearer ever since he started returning to Harrenhal. That didn’t feel like a blessing, but perhaps it was a celestial game of ‘hotter or colder.’

As soon as the Harrenhal gates closed behind him, Jaime could hear a chorus of voices singing, “The Bear and the Maiden Fair.” He suspected that song would be his personal “Rains of Castamere” for some time.

He saw Locke watching the events in the bear pit, laughing heartily and taunting Brienne for fighting defensively.

Jaime strode up to the lip of the pit, followed by Steelshanks, of course. In a blur of speed, Jaime grabbed Steelshank’s crossbow, praised the gods it was already cocked, and shot the bear with it. The bolt flew true and penetrated the bear’s flank. It roared in agony, and Jaime allowed himself a smile.

Then, the bear continued roaring, sounding very angry indeed. It pawed the ground and bounded toward Brienne. Taken by surprise by its sudden aggression, she did not fully dodge, and it got its claws into her back. It pulled her to the ground and… at least Jaime could close his eyes this time. If only he’d had both hands to block out her screams.  
  


**37**

As “The Bear and the Maiden Fair” echoed drunkenly around the arena, Jaime strode up to Locke. He was running low on ideas, but he had one more. He’d said it before – a knight can not allow an innocent to come to harm. Now he meant to act on it.

He argued with Locke, not because he expected anything to change, but to make sure he had Steelshank's attention. His men could pull her up if he got to her in time.

Without warning, Jaime leapt into the pit. On landing, he thought the ground underneath his feet felt surprisingly real for a dream. The bear charged them, and obstinate wench that she was, he had to force her to get out of the way. The bear might have had both of them were it not for Steelshank’s excellent shot.

Once they were both safely out of the pit, she asked. “You were well away. Why did you return?”

“I dreamed of you,” he replied. In his head, he added _and I pray I never do again_.

In that, his prayers would not be answered, though he would come to mind it little and less. Over the coming years, his dream Brienne would guide him and bring him comfort until the wondrous day in the midst of the great and terrible war when they would be reunited in the flesh.

 


End file.
